


Let Your Hair Down

by cosmicmewtwo



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Femslash February, ambiguous vegebul, chi chi Responsibility's Cool But There's More Things In Life, like a couple years before the majin buu arc, takes place some time in the 7 years after the cell saga, what's better than this. gals being pals.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicmewtwo/pseuds/cosmicmewtwo
Summary: Bulma convinces Chi-Chi to hit the town with her.





	Let Your Hair Down

* * *

 

 

Chi Chi watches Bulma as she rummages through the kitchen cupboards and can’t shake the envy that suddenly bubbles up from some ugly, petty part of herself. She can’t help it—it’s hard to look at Bulma’s designer dress, her perfectly manicured nails, and her chic, freshly-styled bob and not feel like she fails to measure up somehow. Chi-Chi was in a rush coming over to Capsule Corp, and it shows: black hair falling out of her bun in stringy wisps, dress wrinkled from an afternoon of housework, under-eye circles from a recent bout of insomnia—a far cry from Bulma’s own effortless glamour.

Bulma swings back to the kitchen table, setting down two wine glasses and a bottle pilfered from the cupboard. Chi-Chi raises an eyebrow as Bulma pulls out the cork and begins to pour two drinks.

“Oh, no thank you,” Chi-Chi protests, “I shouldn’t—”

“Come on, Chi-Chi, would you live a little?”

Chi-Chi holds back a scoff. _Live a little._ Like it’s that easy.

Bulma finishes pouring the drinks, and nudges a glass toward Chi-Chi before taking a deep sip from her own. Her lipstick leaves a faint smudge on the glass that matches the dark pink shade of the rosé.

Chi-Chi picks up her glass and swirls it for a moment before finally taking a reluctant sip. The taste is light and sweet and surprisingly brisk. But she barely has a moment to enjoy it before a shout from outside the kitchen catches her attention, and her gaze flicks over to where Goten and Trunks are playing a video game in the next room. They break into a quick argument, grabbing at each other’s controllers, but Gohan is quick to jump from his spot on the sofa to break them up.

Chi-Chi takes another sip of the wine, but keeps one eye trained intently on the kids.

“We should go out.”

Chi-Chi finally looks back at Bulma. “Pardon?”

Bulma's nods to herself, like she's pleased with her own idea. “Dancing! You know, a night on the town! Kami knows we could use it.”

Chi-Chi tries to imagine herself at a dance club and blanches at the thought. “Oh, I don't think—”

“I know a good place. Great music. Come on, it'll be fun!”

“What about the kids?” Chi-Chi protests, glancing back to the living room, where Trunks and Goten sit absorbed once again in front of the screen, their spat seemingly forgotten.

Bulma takes another deep sip of her wine as she waves her hand, dismissing Chi-Chi's concerns. “Oh, please. Gohan's old enough to babysit them now. And besides, my parents will be around. Not to mention Vegeta.”

Chi-Chi raises an eyebrow. “Vegeta?”

“Honestly, the kids love him. Figure that one out,” Bulma snorts. “He lets them in the gravity room and they act like it's Christmas. But that's beside the point. When was the last time you had a break, Chi-Chi? A chance to let your hair down, for once?”

Chi-Chi bites down on her tongue before she can point out that going out on the town is hardly her idea of a relaxing time. But the truth of it is she can't remember the last time she had a real chance to relax. Between the constant grind of housework and motherhood, of raising two sons completely by herself, when was she supposed to stop and catch her breath?

Part of her almost wants to take Bulma up on her offer.

She stares into her drink, and runs her finger around the lip of the glass to avoid Bulma's expectant stare.

“Look, no offense,” Chi-Chi says, “but I don't think I know how to party as well as you do.”

Bulma laughs before throwing back the last of her drink.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she insists, and her hand is already wrapped around Chi-Chi's wrist before Chi-Chi can stop her. “Come on—I have a dress that'll fit you perfectly.”

 

 

X

 

 

After she's finished teasing Chi-Chi's hair into a style Chi-Chi finds entirely too bold, Bulma goes to work on her face—a quick swipe of mascara, a smudge of soft rouge on her cheeks.

When she finishes, she leans back to admire her handiwork.

"Gosh, Chi," Bulma laughs, tapping her on the nose with the fluffy end of a makeup brush. "Has anyone ever told you how good you clean up?"

Something about the way Bulma shortens her name to “Chi” catches Chi-Chi off-guard. She hopes her makeup is enough to hide the blush bleeding across her cheeks

"Well—I—" Chi-Chi begins, but Bulma's already turned away to take a deep sip from her second glass of wine.

 

 

X

 

 

The car’s on autopilot and Bulma’s got the top down, and Chi-Chi feels breathless with the wind in her face and the bright chaos of West City’s lights glittering below.

"Welcome to the newest model of Capsule Corp’s line of flying cars!" Bulma assures her when she senses Chi-Chi’s apprehension as they race across the skyline— _yes, of course, the self-driving AI is state-of-the-art! Zero percent accident rate!_

Chi-Chi supposes she should trust Bulma; after all, she seems wholly unperturbed—she’s screaming along to the music blasting from the car speakers like no one can hear her, and at this height, that’s probably true.

Despite herself, Chi-Chi finds herself mouthing along to the words of the chorus. Bulma winks and smiles when she catches her, and gives Chi-Chi an enthusiastic nudge in the side with her elbow.

Chi-Chi feels heat rise in her skin at the touch, and blames it on the wine she finished before leaving.

 

 

X

 

 

“Okay, I can tell you don’t care for wine much, but I promise you’ll like this,” Bulma insists, hollering over the music to be heard as she pushes a glass into Chi-Chi’s hand. It’s something bright and red and garnished with a lemon twist, and Bulma is already half-way finished her own before Chi-Chi can take a sip from her own glass. It’s tart—not sweet like she expected. Bulma’s right. She does like it.

Chi-Chi opens her mouth to tell her as much, but Bulma’s already pushing her way back onto the dancefloor. Chi-Chi wants to follow, but her feet remain rooted stubbornly to the floor. She takes a long drink from her glass, silently cursing herself for feeling so out of her element here. Bulma was right all along—she doesn’t get out enough anymore. She frowns into her drink as she tries to think of the last time she left Mount Paozu before now, but can’t.

She empties her glass, and flags down the bartender to bring her another.

Chi-Chi resigns herself to leaning awkwardly against the bar, swirling her second drink as she watches Bulma on the dancefloor. Despite the writhing mass of people, it’s impossible to miss her—her blue hair catches the flashing lights, and she gleams like a star in the center of the crowd.

A man eventually sidles up to Chi-Chi at the bar, and tries to catch her attention. But Chi-Chi’s attention is already drawn elsewhere—to Bulma. The way she moves on the dance floor is hypnotic, and despite her treacherous, strappy heels, she dances effortlessly to the pulsing rhythm. Chi-Chi’s gaze is drawn to the rolling of her hips, the way her red dress clings to her curves as she moves, and Chi-Chi takes a nervous sip from her drink as he tries to look away. She can’t put a name to the feeling in the pit of her stomach when she watches her, but Chi-Chi’s certain it isn’t quite envy.

“Can I buy you a drink?” the man at Chi-Chi’s side suddenly asks.

Chi-Chi doesn’t even look at him as she swirls her glass in her hand. “Oh, uh. No thank you.”

“Then maybe you’d like to dance?”

“No,” Chi-Chi says, more firmly before she downs the rest of her drink. “I’m here with… a friend.”

She abandons her empty glass on the bar before pushing away and slipping into the crowd.

 

 

X

 

 

Bulma laughs when Chi-Chi approaches her on the dancefloor.

“I knew you’d join me eventually,” she manages to shout above the music, and Chi-Chi flashes her a wry grin. She feels bolder now, her skin hot and tingling as the beginning of a liquor flush blooms across her cheeks. A strange sort of warmth has curled up just underneath her chest, and the edges of her mind have taken on a pleasant blur. For once, she doesn’t feel tired, or worried, or defensive, and she intends to dance with Bulma even though she has no idea how to. She used to be a fighter, she reasons—dancing can’t be so different from combat, can it?

She dances to the music, trying to mimic Bulma’s smooth movement, and is distantly aware that she’s failing miserably—but Chi-Chi doesn’t care. That’s something for sober Chi-Chi to feel embarrassed about later—for now, there’s a taste of freedom on her tongue, and Chi-Chi wants to savor every moment of it

Chi-Chi doesn’t remember how she ends up pressed up against Bulma. Maybe she stumbles in her heels, or maybe it’s the crush of people on all sides of them, closing in until there’s nowhere else to go. Bulma’s hands find Chi-Chi’s waist, pulling her in until there’s no room to breathe between them. It’s hot in the middle of the dancefloor, and Chi-Chi feels sweat beading on her brow, prickling on the back of her neck.

Bulma grinds closer to her, and Chi-Chi’s hands mirror Bulma’s, her fingertips suddenly finding the curves of Bulma’s waist, the dip of her lower-back—

Chi-Chi kisses Bulma first, that much she does remember. She nearly misses, her lips clumsily landing on the corner of Bulma’s mouth, and her heart feels like it’s stopped when Bulma goes stiff against her. Chi-Chi’s thoughts immediately spiral into self-reproach— _what are you doing, you’ve really crossed a line here, why would you even think_ —

But then Bulma kisses her back, and Chi-Chi’s heart throbs painfully back into rhythm—Bulma’s tongue pushes past Chi-Chi’s lips, and Chi-Chi welcomes it, drinking in the taste of lipstick and wine against her lips. A strangled moan dies somewhere in Chi-Chi’s throat as Bulma’s mouth burns against her own, her hands moving suddenly from Chi-Chi’s waist—they move to Chi-Chi’s neck instead, her thumbs grazing at Chi-Chi’s jaw before finding their way to the nape of Chi-Chi’s neck, tangling in her hair—

Chi-Chi pulls Bulma closer, pressing into the kiss until their teeth knock together, and the feeling of Bulma laughing softly against her mouth is what finally pulls Chi-Chi back to reality. She turns her head away, gasping, and distantly realizes she’s shaking in Bulma’s grip. She doesn’t know why she’s suddenly panicked—maybe it’s the realization that she’s behaving like this in public, that she’s kissing a married woman, that she’s kissing _Bulma Briefs_ —but her stomach twists into painful knots.

“I—I need some air,” she mumbles, shrugging away from Bulma’s touch.

Bulma calls after her as she pulls away, but Chi-Chi’s already fled into the crowd.

 

 

X

 

 

Chi-Chi washes her shaking hands in the bathroom sink, trying to avoid glimpsing at herself in the mirrors. Her hair’s falling out of place, and her makeup’s a smeared mess against the glistening sweat of her skin. She wishes she had at least packed a tube of mascara in her purse to touch up. Instead, she lets her hands hang limply in the sink until the last of the cheap soap is rinsed away in the cold water, and considers splashing a handful of it against her face to ground herself.

A woman at the next sink is applying a fresh coat of lipgloss when she pauses to lift an eyebrow in Chi-Chi’s direction.

“You okay?” she asks, and Chi-Chi takes a shuddering breath as she turns off the tap.

She doesn’t know what she feels, but it’s nowhere in the same universe as okay. She feels adrift, her entire universe dissolving around her. She feels better than she has in a long time. She feels like she’s going to be ill.

“I’m fine.”

 

 

X

 

 

When Chi-Chi leaves the bathroom, she can’t find Bulma on the dance floor. She immediately staggers across the club in search of her, the lights and dancers and music spiralling around her in a confused blur. She regrets drinking so much, she can’t think straight, she can’t see straight—this isn’t like her, she just needs some air—

She finally stumbles outside, finding herself in an alley in back of the club. The cool air hitting her skin is an immediate relief, but finding Bulma there is what finally grounds her against the rising panic in her throat. She still feels dizzy, but the world seems to spin to a stop.

“Oh, hey,” Bulma says. Casual, like nothing at all happened in the club. She takes a drag from a half-burned cigarette and leans against the wall. “I was about to come looking for you. You were in the bathroom for a while.”

“I thought you had left,” Chi-Chi blurts, and cringes at the panic that seeps into her voice. “I mean—I couldn’t find you, I—”

“Come on, Chi, you know I wouldn’t just take off like that,” Bulma laughs. She takes another drag from her cigarette, and her lipstick leaves just the faintest stain on the filter. Chi-Chi wonders how Bulma has any lipstick left at all when it feels like half of it’s been smeared against her own mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Chi-Chi says, not even sure who or what she’s apologizing for. “This was—look, I promise I won’t mention anything to Vegeta—”

Bulma barks a harsh laugh before ashing out her cigarette against the wall. “I wouldn’t worry about Vegeta.”

“...He’s your husband,” Chi-Chi says, and she can’t decide if she’s admonishing herself or Bulma. _Shouldn’t this matter to him_ , she wants to add, _shouldn’t it matter that his wife is out a club, kissing someone else?_

“I don’t know what word I’d use to describe Vegeta,” Bulma mutters, flicking away the butt of her cigarette. “But, uh, it sure as fuck isn’t ‘husband.’”

Chi-Chi doesn’t understand. “But… you and… Trunks—”

“I told you, don’t worry about him,” Bulma says, her mouth smoothing back into a grin as she pushes herself off the wall and moves toward Chi-Chi. “Come on—if you’re ready to turn in for the night, I can take you home.”

Chi-Chi doesn’t resist when Bulma’s hand finds hers, and follows behind as Bulma leads her out of the alley.

 

 

X

 

 

It’s a long flight back to Mount Paozu.

Bulma and Chi-Chi crawl into the back of the transport, where there’s more room than the front seats. Bulma’s got the top back up, shielding them from the wind this time, and the music’s turned so low that Chi-Chi can barely catch the lyrics through the speakers. She finds herself suffocating in the silence.

But Bulma hardly seems to notice. She’s looking out the window, absently twirling her lighter between her fingers as she surveys the landscape below.

“Fuck, I always forget how isolated it is out here,” Bulma murmurs. “I’m so used to living in the middle of the city, I forget you spend all your time out here in the boonies.”

“I like the peace and quiet,” Chi-Chi manages to say, trying to sound casual, but her voice comes out hoarse. Bulma notices immediately, turning away from the window to look at Chi-Chi instead. An insufferable smirk pulls at the corner of her mouth.

“Don’t you ever get lonesome out here?” she asks.

Chi-Chi bites into her lip, blistering under Bulma’s stare.

“Yes,” she admits, and tries to look away, but suddenly Bulma catches her chin in her hand.

“You don’t have to be,” Bulma says, tilting Chi-Chi’s face upward, but making no effort to move closer. It feels like a challenge, and the heat prickling across Chi-Chi’s skin burns hotter until she can’t stand it for a moment longer.

Their mouths come together, hard enough to leave Chi-Chi breathless in her rush to taste Bulma again. Chi-Chi buries her fingers in Bulma’s hair to pull her closer, and Bulma breaks the kiss only to bring her mouth to Chi-Chi’s neck, her lips hot against Chi-Chi’s throat as she drags a hand up Chi-Chi’s thigh, pushing the hem of her dress over the swell of her hip. Chi-Chi holds Bulma tighter, her breath shaking as Bulma caresses her, stroking her exposed skin.

Chi-Chi nearly cries out when she feels Bulma’s hand find its way between her legs, but Bulma’s mouth is already crushed against her own, drowning out the sound.

 

 

X

 

 

Chi-Chi had spent most of her life surrounded by beings that were more god than mortal, and it only occurs to her now that Bulma is no exception.

The woman had crafted machines that could go to the stars, that could seek out dragons, that could bend the very fabric of time to her will—she possessed a magic at her fingertips that could breathe life into gears and wires and circuitry. A mechanical goddess, in the shape of something soft and breathtaking.

Despite Chi-Chi’s far greater physical strength, she feels powerless against Bulma Briefs.

They stumble out of the transport and into Chi-Chi’s house, still tangled up in each other as Bulma nudges the door shut behind them. They barely manage to kick their heels off before Bulma has Chi-Chi’s back slammed into the wall, a family photo clattering to the floor in the process. Chi-Chi barely notices—she’s too caught up in the taste of Bulma’s mouth against her own, her fingers frantically working at the zipper of Bulma’s dress until she has it pulled down to the waist. Bulma moans into their kiss, peeling off the rest of her dress off before she’s tugging at the straps of Chi-Chi’s, pulling it down until it puddles to the floor.

Chi-Chi leads Bulma backwards until they’re staggering into the bedroom. Chi-Chi finds the bed first, falling until her back hits the mattress, and she watches in the darkness as Bulma stands before her, slipping off her bra, then the matching underwear, before joining Chi-Chi on the bed. She crawls over Chi-Chi until their bodies are flush with each other, and Chi-Chi feels Bulma’s breath, warm and panting, as she trails soft kisses up Chi-Chi’s neck. Chi-Chi closes her eyes and swallows—in the frantic blur that’s led them to this point, this is the first chance she’s had to catch her breath.

She opens her eyes to Bulma pushing the hair from Chi-Chi’s forehead, her hand cupping Chi-Chi’s cheek before gently coming to settle at the base of Chi-Chi’s throat.

“Chi,” she says, the syllable a soft puff from her lips like she’s blowing out a candle, and Chi-Chi aches at the sound of it.

“Bulma,” she whispers back, and she runs a hand through Bulma’s hair, earning a soft grin from Bulma’s lips.

“God, you’re lovely,” she says around a soft laugh as she kisses Chi-Chi on the forehead. “Why haven’t we ever done this before?”

“I…” Chi-Chi licks her lips, hesitating. “I haven’t… been with anyone since Goku,” she confesses suddenly, as if saying that out loud is the only way she can think to clear the air in this bedroom she’s only ever shared with her late husband.

“Oh.” Bulma’s grin fades, and she pulls away slightly. “Hey, we don’t have to, it’s okay—”

“No,” Chi-Chi says, her hands gripping at Bulma’s shoulders before she can pull away any further. “Please,” she whispers, before pressing a soft kiss to Bulma’s lips. “You’ve made me feel better than anyone has in a long time.”

Bulma’s grin reappears like it had never disappeared at all. “Oh, babe,” she laughs, kissing Chi-Chi back. “I can make you feel better than this.”

Bulma kisses her again, deeper this time, and just as Chi-Chi’s sinking herself into it, she feels taunted as Bulma’s mouth pulls away to kiss down her neck and to her chest. Her hands stroke down the side of Chi-Chi’s body, tracing out her ribcage with her fingertips until her hands slip teasingly beneath the material of her bra. Chi-Chi slings her arms around Bulma’s neck and arches her back just enough for Bulma’s hands to slide beneath her, making short work of her bra clasp. Bulma pulls the garment away, kissing at one of Chi-Chi’s breasts until her tongue laps against Chi-Chi’s nipple, triggering a low moan from Chi-Chi’s throat. Chi-Chi feels flushed, heat thrumming through her veins until it’s pooling in her stomach, and she arches her back again to press herself harder against Bulma’s mouth.

But Bulma’s lips have already travelled down her abdomen, settling low on her stomach until she’s kissing at Chi-Chi’s stretch marks, her fingers hooking into the sides of Chi-Chi’s underwear to strip them down in one quick, fluid motion. Bulma settles in the space between her legs, and Chi-Chi’s nearly shaking as Bulma moves lower.

The kisses that Bulma presses to the insides of her thighs are torment, and Chi-Chi’s hands sink into Bulma’s hair before she can stop herself. She feels Bulma chuckling against her skin, and Chi-Chi’s nearly growling in frustration when she lifts her hips, desperate to ease the burning ache that throbs harder the more Bulma touches her.

But Bulma is merciful.

Her mouth hovers above Chi-Chi, her breath hot against Chi-Chi’s flesh, and just as Chi-Chi’s hips angle upward for some measure of relief, Bulma’s tongue finds her first. Chi-Chi lets out a sharp gasp, slapping a palm across her mouth almost reflexively, but Bulma reaches up to grab her arm.

“Don’t,” she breathes against Chi-Chi as her tongue laps up, and then down, the length of her slit. She tugs at Chi-Chi’s arm, pulling Chi-Chi’s hand down. “I want to hear you.”

And Bulma gets her wish the second her tongue flicks across Chi-Chi’s clit—the cry that rises up from Chi-Chi’s is a sharp, guttural sound that leaves Chi-Chi’s throat raw, her entire body trembling as Bulma’s mouth unravels her completely.

But Bulma’s relentless—suddenly, she’s wetting her fingers between her lips before slipping one, and then two, inside of Chi-Chi. Chi-Chi is reduced to panting and writhing beneath Bulma’s lips, her mouth unbearably hot and slick against Chi-Chi’s clit as her fingers curl inside of her, and by the time Chi-Chi feels the deep hum of Bulma’s own moans against her, she comes harder and faster than she’s prepared for.

The second time, it’s when she catches sight of Bulma’s eyes, blue and glittering in the darkness, staring up at her from where she lies in between Chi-Chi’s legs. By the third time, Chi-Chi’s nearly sobbing, her legs shaking as she tugs at Bulma’s hair, pulling her mouth away, too raw and sensitive to endure a second more. Bulma pulls away, bringing herself to her knees, laughing as she licks her lips, her throat and chest flushed pink with her own arousal.

She straddles one of Chi-Chi’s legs as she lowers her body against Chi-Chi’s, crushing their mouths together. Chi-Chi moans against Bulma’s kiss, shocked at the taste of herself on Bulma’s lips—shocked at how much she enjoys it—and when Bulma pulls away to gasp against her neck, Chi-Chi discovers just how much she loves the sounds Bulma makes, soft and unmuffled against Chi-Chi’s throat. Chi-Chi’s hands fall against Bulma’s back, her fingers digging into Bulma’s skin as Bulma grinds against her, warm and slick against Chi-Chi’s thigh.

Soon Bulma is trembling against her as she builds to her own climax, her moans low and breathy before she smothers them against Chi-Chi’s mouth. They writhe and clutch at each other until Bulma stops shuddering completely, eventually collapsing against Chi-Chi before rolling to the side, her hand never unwrapping from Chi-Chi’s waist

It’s a long time before either of them catches their breath completely, and when they do, their mouths find each other immediately again in the darkness, their bodies pressing just as close as before.

 

 

X

 

 

Chi-Chi half-expects Bulma to leave in the middle of the night—to sneak off to her flying car and spirit herself back to Capsule Corp when Chi-Chi’s asleep and unsuspecting.

To keep things clean—uncomplicated. Chi-Chi wouldn’t blame her for it.

But instead she wakes up to Bulma’s lips pressing against her temple, her kiss almost as warm as the sunlight spilling in through the bedroom window.

“G’morning, Chi,” she says, and Chi-Chi has half a mind to be annoyed at the early awakening. She merely groans, burying her head deeper into her pillow.

Bulma laughs at her response. “I was about to get up and make some coffee. You want some?”

“Mmm. Water would be nice, actually.”

Bulma kisses her again, this time on the cheek. “I think I can manage that.”

Chi-Chi feels the mattress shift as Bulma rolls off the bed, and she listens for the sound of Bulma opening the door to leave the room. But the creak of the door never comes—instead, Chi-Chi hears a dull clattering as Bulma starts rifling through Chi-Chi’s dresser drawers instead.

“What are you doing?” Chi-Chi asks, cracking open an eye to see Bulma totally naked, bent over one of the drawers. Chi-Chi blushes at the sight—and immediately feels foolish for it, given how they had spent their night.

“Looking for something to wear,” Bulma mumbles as she pulls out an old button-down shirt that Chi-Chi thinks might have belonged to Goku, though she had never seen him wear it. But apparently it’s good enough for Bulma,who pulls it on and begins to button it up, despite the fact that she’s swimming in it.

“You look ridiculous,” Chi-Chi snorts.

“I look fucking adorable,” Bulma counters, and she sticks out her tongue as she buttons it up just enough to cover her chest.

Chi-Chi rolls her eyes, but finds she’s inclined to agree with her.

“Anyway, I was thinking I’d make us some breakfast,” Bulma said as she leans over to fish her purse off the floor, digging her phone out when she finds it. “Then maybe have a shower, and then we can head back to Capsule Corp, and see how the boys made out with their sleepover?”

Chi-Chi finally pulls herself up in bed until she’s sitting, and attempts to run her fingers her through her hair, but isn’t surprised to find it tangled beyond repair.

“You cook?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really,” Bulma laughs as she scrolls through her phone. “But I can manage bacon and eggs.”

“I’ll help—” Chi-Chi says, starting to throw off the covers, but Bulma holds up a hand.

“Whoa, whoa, I don’t think so,” she says, tucking her phone back into her purse. “I’m bringing you breakfast in bed, Chi.”

Chi-Chi blushes again. “You—really? You’d do that?”

Bulma tosses her purse onto the bed before she crawls back onto the mattress.

“Of course,” she says, reaching out for Chi-Chi’s hand before kissing her against the cheek. “I said I was taking you out to give you a chance to kick back and relax, didn’t I? Still applies.”

Bulma moves to stand up again, but Chi-Chi’s hand catches her wrist before she can.

“Hey,” she says suddenly, but her eyes shy away from Bulma’s gaze. “We should—we should do this again sometime.”

In the corner of her eye, Chi-Chi doesn’t miss the brightness of Bulma’s grin.

“You know I’d love to, Chi.”


End file.
